


Einstein

by tigs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-13
Updated: 2005-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigs/pseuds/tigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"On me, at least, it would be appropriate," Rodney said. "Crazy physics teacher, here. I *should* have hair that sticks out at all odd angles."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Einstein

**Author's Note:**

> 1,722 words. Unbeta'd. I'm really sorry.

"Hey, Ford, special delivery," John said. He tossed the cardboard tube a few feet across the staff room, an easy lob, and watched as Ford lunged for it, as the other man's fingers scrabbled unsuccessfully over the smooth surface, before he turned back to the drop bin for his own package, which had been stowed underneath.

"Damn you, Sheppard," Ford said, and when John turned around again, he'd already picked the tube up off of the ground and was in the process of taking it to one of the tables. "You can't just *hand* a brother his package, can you? No, you think that just because you coach the football team, you've got to *pass* it."

"It's what he does," Rodney said from his place at the table in the corner of the room. "You've been teaching here for a year now, Ford, you should know this already."

Rodney had the newspaper open in front of him: the science and technology page, John was sure, because Rodney always read the science page during his free period. And then he spent the rest of the day complaining that the section editors were idiots who wouldn't know newsworthy science if it came and bit them on the ass. Which it would someday, he vowed, and given that Rodney was pretty much a genius, John thought he was probably right.

"I know, I know," Ford said. "But I keep hoping that if I mention it often enough, it'll get through his thick skull."

"It's not his skull it needs to get through," Rodney answered, and John would have been willing to place bets on what the next words to come out of his mouth would be. And he would have been right too. "It's his hair."

"You're just jealous," he said.

He had to resist the urge to pat down his hair, though, so instead he sat himself down at the nearest table, his own box in front of him. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, using them to splice through the tape on the top, cutting through the label with his name on it: John Sheppard, Pegasus Cole High School, Atlantis, CA 94521.

"On me, at least, it would be appropriate," Rodney said. "Crazy physics teacher, here. I *should* have hair that sticks out at all odd angles."

John pointed at his own head. "*Crazy math teacher.*" Then, because he thought he was sounding maybe a little bit *too* indignant: "And the look I'm going for is playfully tousled, not 'sticking out at all odd angles.'"

"Sorry," Rodney said, still not looking up from his paper—and that was just one of the annoying things about him. He could carry on whole conversations without once looking at you. But then he did. And he actually *leered* at John. On campus. "My mistake."

"That's not what you were saying last ni—"

"*Too much information!*" Ford yelped quickly, cutting him off, and John turned a playful glare at him, despite the fact that Ford wasn't (apparently) paying him any more attention than Rodney had been. He was (apparently) enthralled with the posters that he'd pulled out of the cardboard tube, unrolling them, looking at them, and then doing an abbreviated eye roll.

"What've you got there?" John asked after a moment, so Ford turned them around, holding them out for him to see.

They were 'READ' posters, more than one, but too few to call a whole stack. The one on top was of Enrique Iglesias holding a book and giving the cameraperson a 'come hither and let us bailamos together into the bedroom, where we shall let the rhythm take us over' expression. He was holding *War and Peace*.

"I mean, I get it," Ford said. "Photograph celebrities holding books. Make reading look cool. I approve, I do, but you know what would be even better? Taking candid pictures of celebrities reading books. Blow those up. Stick those on our walls, and then not only can we continue to look like the members of the celebrity obsessed society that we are, but the kids can see that reading actually does occur out there in the real world. And they won't just think, 'wow, I wonder how much they paid Enrique to pose with that book?'"

"I don't know about that," Rodney said. "Maybe they'll look at the book and think, 'I want to be that book.' Maybe they'll actually go check that book out of the library and read it so they can find out what they and the book have in common, then they'll embrace their inner book, thinking that maybe if they do, Enrique will want to hold them like that, too."

John just stared at Rodney and from the silence coming from Ford's direction, he was pretty sure that he was too.

Rodney just looked back at them, almost condescendingly, and said, "Hey, teenage girls. You never know what's going through their minds." After a moment, he looked back down at his paper.

Ford snorted a laugh, then rolled his posters back up and stuck them back in the tube. He picked up the books he'd brought into the staff room, then nodded at John and Rodney, and said, "Back to the trenches!"

Then John and Rodney were alone. Of course, it was the middle of the school day and anyone could walk in, but that didn't mean that John couldn't go sit with Rodney at Rodney's table. They'd left the house a long time ago, it seemed, and between his football practice after school and Rodney's honors physics seminar that evening, it would be even longer before they both made it home again.

He stood up from his table, pushed his chair in, and then walked over to where Rodney was sitting. It was the best table in the staff room, surrounded by windows on two sides as it was, which was why Rodney always bee-lined for it. He sat down directly across from him, set his package down on the table, off to the side, and then leaned forward, resting his crossed arms and chin on the plastic surface. He reached out with one hand, fingers creeping forward, until they were walking across the newspaper page that Rodney was reading. He could see Rodney's nose twitch, then his lips, his fingers, and finally, when John reached the article that he was actually reading, Rodney's control broke and he batted John's hand away.

"And why, exactly, are you *trying* to annoy me?" Rodney asked.

John didn't answer. He just smiled. Until Rodney looked at him, and then he smiled even more widely. He reached his hand out again and finally Rodney rolled his eyes and covered it with his own. His hand was large and warm and Rodney squeezed lightly before tucking his thumb underneath John's palm.

"I had a kid come into first period Calc on his knees this morning," John said. "Opened the door, walked in on his knees, and then he started singing, 'Hakuna Matata.' He actually did a shimmy when he got to the 'no worries, for the rest of our days' part."

Rodney snorted. "He's singing 'no worries' in Calc? That's a new one."

"He thinks he's got derivatives down," John said. "He can live in his happy place for a few more weeks, but then come the dreaded integrals and my guess is that then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled bitching and moaning."

He watched Rodney smirk and John twisted his hand around so that he could lace their fingers together.

"I'm just thankful he didn't start singing the 'Big Pig' song," John continued, and there was that smile of Rodney's he'd been aiming for. "I mean, this guy is big. Football player big, and he could have come in doing the hula. I could have been scarred for life."

At that, Rodney laughed. "Ah, the perils of mathematics. It's these sorts of things that make me prefer physics. Speed, velocity, people trying to disprove gravity. Fun times, I assure you."

"Fun times," John echoed.

Then the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Passing period now, and John had to be back in his room for freshman Algebra in ten minutes. He sat up, gently disengaging his hand from Rodney's. He pulled his box closer again, then nudged it in Rodney's direction, until it was pushing up the edge of the newspaper.

"I got you a present," he said.

Rodney looked at him over the box, then warily pulled it closer, putting it down on top of the paper. He unfolded the flaps on top, then pulled out a clear bag holding a black t-shirt. The top of the white plastic design was visible above the fold and John watched as Rodney unfolded it, as the slow grin spread across his face.

Rodney pulled the t-shirt out of its bag completely and laid it across his chest. "Einstein," he said and when he moved, the big, white face seemed to wink at John.

"You're always talking about the hair," John said. "I figured I'd give you some of your own."

Rodney stood up from his seat then, picked up the box, and folded the newspaper back up. He walked around the table to where John was sitting, leaning down to brush a kiss across his lips. Before he could pull away, though, John lifted his arm and wrapped a hand around the back of Rodney's neck, holding him there so that he could kiss him more deeply.

The door to the staff room opened and then closed again, barely registering on the periphery of John's hearing, but then there was the unmistakable sound of giggling and John smiled against Rodney's mouth, pulling away. Two of the office aides were peering through the window of the door at them, both smiling, whispering together. John let his hand trail down Rodney's shoulder, then arm, until he had a hold of Rodney's hand again. He gave it another squeeze before Rodney stepped back again completely.

"We should get going," Rodney said. "Class."

"Class," John agreed, holding out his hand so that Rodney could help him up and with a heavy, put-upon sigh, Rodney did. Their fingers lingered for a moment, then disengaged, and they headed out of the staff lounge together.


End file.
